Chapter 1 #2
Margo stood still on the threshold for a moment, her chest tightening as the beam of her flashlight moved over the damage.
The walls were scorched black in places.
Part of the ceiling had been opened up. The smell was thick and sour.
Everything looked wrong. Familiar equipment sat in the middle of ruin, like survivors too stunned to know what had happened around them.
Her throat burned.
Margo stepped farther in, moving slowly, letting herself see it.
The prep station had taken damage. The shelving near the wall would need to be replaced. There was soot on nearly everything. Water had soaked into corners, seams, and anything porous enough to absorb it. One of the big cooker plates sat there like an accusation.
Margo moved toward it automatically.
That plate had been giving her trouble for weeks, not switching off properly every time.
She had meant to have it repaired. She had meant to call someone in.
She had meant to get to it before anything else could pile on top of it.
Her stomach twisted. Her flashlight moved over the cooker and down along its side, and something glinted beneath it.
Margo frowned and crouched, lowering the beam. There, wedged beneath the cooker, was something small and bright.
“What is it?” Rad asked at once.
“There’s something shiny under here.” Margo tilted her head and pointed with her flashlight. She was about to reach for it when Rad stopped her.
“Stop,” Rad said, grabbing her arm. “Let me do it.”
Margo leaned back immediately and stood.
Rad was already reaching into his jacket pocket. He took out another pair of gloves, then his phone.
“We need to do this properly,” Rad said.
He crouched where she had been, first taking a few photographs from different angles before pulling on the gloves. Then, with careful precision, he reached beneath the cooker and eased the object free. It was a bracelet.
It was delicate and made of white gold. It also looked fine enough to be expensive, with a faint gleam that caught the flashlight beam and scattered it.
Rad stood and looked at Margo. “Is this yours?”
“No.” She shook her head at once. “I’ve never seen it before.” She frowned. It looked a little familiar, but she was sure none of her staff wore jewelry.
Rad turned slightly toward June. “You wouldn’t have dropped it when you came in here to inspect the place with my dad?”
June’s answer came immediately. “No. It’s not mine.”
Rad nodded once, then pulled a small evidence bag from his jacket and slipped the bracelet inside.
June watched him with unmistakable familiarity. “You’re just like your father. He carries gloves and baggies everywhere, too.”
Rad gave a short laugh. “He taught me to do this.”
“It does look a bit familiar.” Margo stared at the bag in his hand. “I don’t think it belongs to my staff,” she said. “They, like me, don’t wear jewelry.” A faint, humorless laugh escaped her. “There’s always the possibility it could fall off and a customer gets an unwelcome present in their food.”
“We’ll need to ask all of your staff,” Rad said, practical and calm again.
“Of course.” Margo nodded. “I’ll give you a list of everyone.”
“Thank you.” Rad smiled.
His smile made her pulse give another ridiculous little jump. Their eyes held for a fraction too long before June’s movement around the kitchen broke the moment cleanly in two.
Margo drew in a breath and looked around the room again.
The weight of it all settled over her afresh. The damage. The smell. The sheer effort it would take to make this place whole again.
“I guess we should get home,” Margo said quietly.
“Yes,” June agreed.
Margo gave the kitchen one last look before turning away.
Her heart felt heavy enough to sink. She had poured herself into Teacups. Into every cup, cake, flower arrangement, and mismatched plate. Into making it feel warm, welcoming, and safe. Seeing it wounded like this felt unbearably close to seeing part of herself laid open.
They locked up behind them and headed back to the car.
As Rad drove toward the Sandpiper Inn, Margo sat in the back seat with her eyes closed and promised herself one thing.
She would rebuild Teacups.
No matter how long it took, no matter how much work, money, or grit it demanded, she would rebuild Teacups.
When they reached the inn, June stayed in the car while Rad got out and walked Margo to the door of her cottage attached to the side of the property. The night had grown quieter again, and the warm air carried the distant sound of water moving against the shore.
At her door, Margo turned to face him.
The porch light caught the tiredness in his face and the concern he hadn’t bothered to hide.
“Are you okay?” Rad asked.
Margo opened her mouth with the automatic answer on her tongue, then let it die.
“Physically, yes,” she said. “Emotionally…” She swallowed against the sting of tears. “I’m heartsore over Teacups.”
Something in Rad’s expression softened even more.
He reached for her hands.
The second his fingers closed around them, tiny zings of awareness shot up her arms. Ridiculous, really. Entirely inconvenient. And impossible to ignore.
“I’ll help you rebuild Teacups,” Rad promised.
Margo could not help smiling at that, even through the ache sitting in her chest.
“Thank you,” she said softly. “Thank you for taking me there.”
“You’re welcome.” His thumbs brushed lightly against the backs of her hands. “Now get some sleep. I’ll check in with you in the morning.”
Her heart gave a hopeful, foolish little leap. “I will.”
Then he did something that sent her pulse into complete disarray.
He leaned in and kissed her cheek.
It was only a soft brush of warmth, but Margo felt it everywhere.
“Good night, Margo,” Rad said quietly. Then he pulled back just enough to hold her gaze. “And for the record, what you said earlier about me coming to find you.” His voice dropped lower. “I’ll always come find you.”
She stared at him, suddenly unable to summon a single useful word.
Rad gave her hands one gentle squeeze, then released them.
“Lock up behind you,” Rad reminded her. “And call any time if something worries you.”
All she could do was nod.
Then he turned and walked away, leaving her standing there with her heart hammering wildly against her ribs.
She had not felt like this about anyone in ten years, not since Travis and not since the fire that had taken her fiancé and his captain and left her with grief so deep she had believed nothing warm would ever grow through it again.
Yet here she was, watching Rad Dillinger walk back toward June’s car as if he had quietly stepped into a space she had thought would remain empty forever.
Margo let herself inside, locked the door, then checked the windows and locks more than once before finally making herself stop.
After a hot shower and a small meal she barely tasted, Margo changed into pajamas and climbed into bed. The sheets smelled fresh. The room was quiet. Her body was exhausted.
This time, sleep came easier.
As she drifted off, the last image in her mind was not smoke or fire or ruined walls.
It was Rad.
Her white knight, walking through the dark to find her.